Share Your Burden
by WhenInDoubtSonicOut
Summary: Dean's been drinking and not only that but getting piss drunk nearly every night. One night, he comes back to the hotel after a binge and says some extremely strange things to his younger brother, Sam. In the morning, Dean is in denial. How can Sam get Dean to share his burden and let him know what is wrong?


**This is my first shot at Sam/Dean. It's actually the first fanfiction I ever wrote for Supernatural and I just never posted it. It's two parts, here's the first half. The second will be posted when I get the chance to write again. Readers of my other fic will know that I'm a little bit of a procrastinator.**

**Anyway, please review, PM me, or go talk to me on my tumblr and let me know what you think. Love you guys~**

* * *

"God damn it, I'm so friggin' hungry right now!" Dean moaned loudly in frustration into the unsympathetic silence of the Impala. The two of them, Dean and Sam Winchester, had been on the road for nearly seven hours and despite the grumbling of Dean's stomach Sam just wouldn't relent.

"We have maybe 30 more miles, Dean, just tough it out," Sam said, his face tightening with annoyance as he rolled his eyes. "You're hungry all the time so I'm sure you're used to it."

Dean gave Sam a look that clearly said _Go fuck yourself_.

They drove in silence for the next 45 minutes, the growling of Dean's stomach turning into what seemed like a deafening roar; Dean was choosing to describe what was happening in his stomach as 'a giant dinosaur made out of knives'. Sam gave him his patented bitch face, commenting on how Dean still acted like a child even though he was older than him before they finally pulled into a small motel parking lot.

"Well, this looks like a shit hole," Dean commented as he stepped out of the passenger seat and made his way to the other side of car to the driver's seat.

"Home sweet home," Sam sighed as he started walking towards the entrance of the motel. Dean plopped himself behind the wheel of the Impala and started it, startling Sam.

"What are you doing!?" he shouted as Dean backed out of the parking space.

Dean rolled the window down and stuck his head out. "I'm going to that bar that we passed on our way here."

Sam looked at his older brother disapprovingly. "Don't you think you've been," he paused, shaping his hand into a 'C' and lifting it to his mouth to make a drinking motion, "a little too much lately?" Dean rolled his eyes and his window up simultaneously before beginning to drive away without a word in response. "I thought you were _hungry!" _he shouted at Dean in frustration, but Dean either couldn't hear him or didn't want to as he turned left back into the traffic on the road. Sam gave a defeated sigh and made his way to the entrance to check in to the motel for the night. He texted Dean the room number and hoped his brother wouldn't get into too much trouble.

* * *

At about 1:00 in the morning Sam woke up suddenly to a loud banging noise. He shot up into a sitting position, feeling around for his gun. Through his sleep fogged brain, it took a few moments before he finally understood that it was someone knocking wildly at the door. Dean.

"Calm down, calm down, I'm coming," he shouted, voice thick with sleep, pulling himself out of bed to let Dean inside. Dean must have been leaning into the door because as soon as he unlatched and opened it, Dean toppled into the room right into his younger brother. Sam yelped in surprise and managed to catch Dean before the both of them fell hard on their asses on the dirty, stained carpet of the floor.

"Took ya long enough," Dean slurred against Sam's chest, looking at him with his eyes unfocused.

"Ugh," Sam sounded, annoyed as a waft of Dean's alcoholic breath washed over him. He grimaced, disgusted. "Are you kidding me? You're wasted. Great."

"I'm not wasted you're wasted," Dean said, pointing an accusing finger at his brother that seemed to hold a lot less meaning with the added effect of Dean swaying back and forth where he stood (or rather, leaned). Then, in a louder voice, he added "I'm fuckin' amazing, is what I am." He jabbed his accusation finger into Sam's chest several times.

"Shut up, Dean." Sam gripped his shoulders and guided him towards the bed, his irritation level increasing rapidly as Dean made efforts to be an uncooperative as possible. He kept moving unnecessarily, each time forcing Sam to lose his grip on his arms and have to correct Dean's balance all over again.

This was the reason why Sam had been so unimpressed to hear that Dean was visiting the bar in the first place. In the past couple weeks, his older brother had slipped into what Sam assumed was some sort of depression. Before, Dean would drink sometimes but he rarely came back to the motel reeking of alcohol, slurring his words and falling over. Okay, well, he _had_ done that. But not every night. It was as if Dean was trying to escape something and turning to alcohol was the only thing he had to assist him. Sam was no stranger to Dean's unhealthy methods of coping with his inner demons.

Sam was worried about the emotional well being of his brother, of course, but the bottom line was that this drinking habit was incredibly inconvenient and even more irritating. Getting Dean to settle down after he was gone mentally was nearly impossible some nights. More than once, Sam had found himself audience to the drunk Dean show and it was _not_ entertaining him anymore.

Dean slammed into the mattress when Sam pushed him onto it.

_Thank God, it's going to be one of the easy nights_, Sam thought as his brother lay perfectly still. He sat on the side of the bed, putting his head into his hands with a small groan of relief.

Then: "Sammy."

It was so quiet that Sam might have thought he imagined it, but after a few moments it sounded again, louder and more insistent.

"Sammy?"

The sound of it unsettled him. The nickname was something only his brother called him and he had learned to accept that nothing he could say would make Dean stop but that is not why it worried him so much at this moment. Dean sounded like a small, scared child. This wasn't just in the way that all drunken people sounded like children; it was an innocent and especially vulnerable sound that rang through Dean's voice, raw and open in a way that made Sam's heart clench.

"Yeah?" he said, sounding more concerned than he meant to.

Dean moved his head to look at Sam, his face melting into a frown when his eyes landed on him.

"What's up, Dean?"

Dean paused for a long time and just stared at his face, the deep green eyes full of sadness. The moment lasted so long that Sam was just about to say something in annoyance when Dean finally said "You'd hate me if you knew what I think about sometimes."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his stomach flipping within him. It always worried the hell out of him when Dean slipped into any sort of talk relating to self-hatred. It happened increasingly with every passing year as the two faced more and more hardships together. Dean always had something to hate himself over and now it seemed drinking was his new way of coping with whatever his mind had latched onto this time.

"Wh-what are you talking about Dean?" Sam cursed himself inwardly for letting his voice quaver.

"You'd hate me, you'd be disgusted," Dean mumbled, nodding. Then, he lifted his eyes to level them perfectly with Sam's and brought his hand up to cup his cheek, brushing his thumb over Sam's lips. After the clumsy, drunk movements, Dean's touch was surprisingly soft and gentle, treating Sam's face like it would break with any more force. Sam froze, a blush creeping outward from where Dean's hand was stroking and down to the very tips of his toes as he jerked back. He offered up a nervous laugh.

"I don't know what you're talking about Dean but I think you need to go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning when you aren't wasted beyond understanding."

With that, Sam quickly got up and crossed to the other side of the room to climb into his own bed. Dean said nothing in response, his eyes closing, face melting into the peaceful expression of sleep and both brothers went to sleep for the night.

* * *

Dean woke with his head pounding out a dreadfully painful beat. He let out a deep groan of dismay and covered his face with his hands as sunlight poured out across his bed.

"Rise and shine!" said the annoyingly cheerful voice of his younger brother. He had just opened the windows to the crappy motel room they were staying in with the specific purpose of causing Dean pain.

"You're an ass," Dean responded.

Sam said nothing and busily started packing his bag with belongings that were strewn about the dingy room. Dean rolled over to face himself away from the window and open his eyes slowly in an attempt to prevent any unnecessary pain. It wasn't as successful as he'd hoped it would be but eventually he was able to use his sense of sight without wincing in pain and closing his eyes. He looked over at Sam who was now scanning something on his laptop with a face of deep concentration. Well, it seemed like it was deep concentration.

As if he could feel Dean's eyes on him, Sam lifted his to meet them. "How are you feeling?" Sam asked with a knowing tone.

Dean glared at him. "Like shit, thanks for asking."

He continued scrolling through whatever he was looking at on his computer, eyes darting back and forth over the screen as he absorbed whatever information might be there. Dean was always simultaneously annoyed and in awe of Sam's ability to take in all of the information he looked at and keep a catalogue of it in his brain. Dean was smart, but not book smart. He could read, sure, and even appreciated some of the classics of literature but he was nowhere near the level that Sam was.

"You said some weird things last night," Sam said suddenly, startling Dean out of his thoughts. It took him a moment to register what was said. When he finally realized, a small spark of panic ignited in his stomach.

"Like what?" he questioned after a pause, stomach flipping nervously within him as he waited for the response.

Sam looked back at his research, staring blankly at the screen. Just as Dean was about to ask his question again, Sam responded. "Well, you were pretty drunk. You just kept saying that I'd hate you…if I knew what you thought about all of the time? Something like that. Like I said, you were pretty wasted. I'm surprised you could even talk to be honest."

Dean's heart stopped for a moment. Had he really said that? What was he thinking, saying anything even in that _realm_ to Sam? Yeah, he was drunk. He was going to have to play that angle otherwise Sam would never leave him alone about this. As his heart resumed beating, Dean laughed out loud. "What kind of bull shit is that? I really must have been drunk."

Dean saw the doubt in Sam's eyes immediately. His younger brother was incredibly good at knowing when he was lying. It had gotten him in trouble many times before and surely would continue getting him in trouble well into the future. But not about this. This could only be his burden to carry and he would probably have to carry it for the rest of his life.

"You have to stop this," Sam said softly, looking down at the floor. Dean looked at him questioningly. "This whole depressed drinking thing, you have to stop. You drink every night unless we're working and then sometimes even then you drink. And each night you're more and more wasted. I can't keep taking care of you like you're a child. We're supposed to be working together on this and I feel like a one-man-show over here."

"Sam, I-" Dean started, but Sam interrupted him, his voice angry.

"What if something happened, Dean!? It's not like all the bad guys take the back seat while you're off on your drinking binge. You could get really hurt! You could _die_, Dean," Sam's voice broke at the word 'die', as the image of his brother's cold and lifeless body entered his brain.

Sam took a deep breath, letting all of his thoughts from the past couple of months be known. "You can talk to me Dean. I know you have issues letting yourself show any vulnerable side but I'm your brother. I can listen and I can do whatever needs to be done to help you." Sam's eyes stared intently into Dean's. The intensity of the look made Dean drop his green eyes to the ground and suddenly a wave of heat washed over him. He was blushing. Shit.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said, quickly rising and dashing to the bathroom to lock himself inside. He heard Sam curse in the next room, shutting his laptop angrily.

"Damn it!" Sam shouted, slamming his laptop closed in irritation. What did he have to do to get Dean to open up to him and let him share a little of the burden? Dean was always keeping things from him and in the end it only ever hurt him. His older brother was so focused on protecting him that he completely forgot to take care of his own needs.

_Damn it, Dean._

Sam could hear the shower turning on in the next room and wondered what Dean could possibly have been talking about the previous night. _Why would I hate you for your thoughts, Dean?_ Surely it was just the alcohol talking, right? Somehow, Sam couldn't accept that that was all that was responsible.


End file.
